


halcyon

by Kylaroid



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Post-Canon, Wholesome, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylaroid/pseuds/Kylaroid
Summary: "Darlene is so used to one night stands. Messy and certainly enjoyable, but the buzz fades quickly by the morning. Clothes scrambled on before the person wakes and out the door; unaffected by the knowledge that they’d likely never bump paths again. That suited her just fine. But that itching sensation to flee, to slink out as easy as she had come, hadn’t crossed her mind. No. Darlene stays."a very short and soft post-canon piece
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	halcyon

Amber hues warm through the cracks of the blinds and dance across Darlene’s face, rousing the brunette from her sleep. She stirs, slow to start, eventually blinking those dark eyes open. A soft rumble of malcontent hums in her throat as she screws her eyes tight against the intruding light. Bare legs ease their way through layers of bedding; inking heat and seeking freedom. She shifts, rolling onto her side to escape the sunbeams, and is greeted by a swath of auburn locks. A veneer of drowsiness clouds her mind—obscuring the memories that led to this moment.

But it clears as her dark features settle on Dom’s face. And she recalls with adoration _where_ she is and _who_ is asleep beside her.

It had been their first evening together. _Well_ , first since that humid summer evening Darlene months ago. Nearly as blissful but tainted with the crushing weight of reality that came the next day. Soiled by the weary broken crackle of Dom’s voice as she realized her betrayal. As haunting and devastating as Dom’s scathing diatribe in the heat of the countryside. Like a typhoon of righteous fury littering their intimate moments with jetsam. Darlene wishes she could will that night out of her memory, evaporating the tainted segments so only the intimacy remains. Perhaps replace it with the tender perfection of last night. And this morning.

Darlene is so used to one night stands. Messy and certainly enjoyable, but the buzz fades quickly by the morning. Clothes scrambled on before the person wakes and out the door; unaffected by the knowledge that they’d likely never bump paths again. That suited her just fine. But that itching sensation to flee, to slink out as easy as she had come, hadn’t crossed her mind. No. Darlene stays, stays very still. Holds her breath as if the tiniest noise might awake Dom and break the spell of the moment.

Those dark eyes dance across Dom’s features. Any signs of tension absent from her face. Has Dom ever looked this peaceful before? This soft? Perhaps when her eyes settled on her their first night together, brimming with affection as Darlene’s hands smoothed along the surface of her neck. Maybe in the Boston airport, when her teary gaze held her so singularly. As if the throng of travelers and vagabonds rushing by simply didn’t exist. But this moment of peace. Utter ease and relaxation, bathed in the golden light of dawn. Darlene likes this the best.

Grey eyes roll subtly back and forth under her lids and Darlene wishes she could peek inside of Dom’s mind. To catch a glimpse of her dreams. To know her intimate innermost thoughts and desires. Yearns to hold those fantasies in her hands and clutch them close to her chest. She would place that gentle happiness in a secret place, only privy to her and the woman she holds so much affection for. Darlene wonders if Dom dreams of her. Darlene hopes that she does. Hopes that she only graces Dom’s dreams to kiss her tenderly and hold her firmly—unwilling to let her go again. To hold her hands and whisper darling words of adoration and affirmation. Not to disappear and slink off into the night like a weasel with her badges and secrets wrapped around her teeth. No. Darlene would be here in the morning. She will always be here when Dom awakes.

She counts the freckles scattered across Dom’s face like a canvas. Makes a note of the larger specks dusted across her nose and the smaller ones adorning her cheeks. Catches the faint edge of a purple bruise hiding underneath Dom’s hair. Darlene remembers there are more where her eyes cannot reach right now. Scattered across Dom’s inner thighs. The subtle shift of her legs under the covers prompts the faintest ache and Darlene remembers the matching set on hers. A pleasant sting that reminds her that this wasn’t one of her reoccurring dreams. Dreams where Dom would touch her, hold her, cherish her. Only for Darlene to wake to the dark expanse of her empty flat. Dom was here—real—beautiful and vulnerable beside her. A vulnerability that Darlene vows never to touch again.

Fingers ease, hesitant at first before finding resolve, and reach out for Dom’s. There’s a soft murmur as Dom shifts against her touch, not entirely roused by the sensation, but reacts regardless. Muscles twitching as Darlene interlaces their fingers.

They’re warm. Dom’s hands have always been warm. On her knee, pressed to the flat of her back, spread across her thighs, clutching onto her hands. Her touch solemn, fond, secure. Vulnerable and open for the taking if Darlene so chooses. She does. Instinctually melting into Dom’s warm affectionate embrace whenever the opportunity presents itself. If she could bottle the serenity Dom grants her, she would. But she doesn’t need to. At least, so she thinks. It will be here when she needs it, so long as she safeguards that vulnerability.

Darlene’s fingers curl and secure their grasp on Dom’s hand. A rush of calming relief flooding her chest as Dom’s fingers instinctually squeeze back. Washing out all the lingering anxiety and fears. What if Dom pulled away, rolled away—woke up and decided that this wasn’t going to work out. But they’ve already grown so much. The 4352 miles that once separated them having dwindled down to mere centimeters. No, Darlene doesn’t care much for dumb clichés like destiny and fate. But she feels some kind of ineffable cosmic pull towards Dom. Something that first united them under the most chaotic of circumstances and pulled them time and time back to each other. They never got the timing right. But here. But now. Tangled in the bedsheets of Dom’s flat and lazed in the light of daybreak. They have, perhaps, never been more in sync.

A smile eases onto Darlene’s lips and her eyes soften. And she waits, patient and affectionate, for Dom to wake. Gaze exploring every facet of her features, from the crest of her nose to the curve of her ears. And it takes a few minutes, but Dom rouses. Just as soft and easy as Darlene had. Voice cracking with remnants of sleep, raspy and gentle, as her eyes adjust to the sight of Darlene lying beside her.

“Morning...”

“Mmm… good morning, babe.”


End file.
